A Thief's Tale
by Caulicali
Summary: A young khajit boy sits huddled in an alleyway, in his hands are stolen goods from a nearby general goods store. The youth is without a name, family, or home, and has resorted to petty thievery to make ends meet. The boy goes on to become one of the greatest thieves in Tamriel, but that is unclear to him at the present moment. As of now, his only concern is his next meal.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Tirdas, 8th of Hearthfire, 4E 176

It was a rainy day in Riften. The guards made their daily rounds , their chainmail and cloth armor offering satisfactory protection from sword blows but not from the brutal precipitation. Of course they were used to it, a rainy day in Riften was nearly every other day. Which isn't so great for a Khajit, as the youth huddled underneath a shabby shelter of sticks and cloth quickly figured out. This young man had entered Riften just three days ago hoping to find work, but really he was here there for one reason, thievery. The boy's name is Fa'khar. He can't quite remember if he made the name up, or it was given to him by one of the many guardians he's had throughout his life, but it mattered little to him. He stopped caring about his history years ago, after survival became his main priority.

But that's enough reminiscing for now, he had more pressing matters to attend to, such as not dying. He was soaked to the skin by the rain, and he shivered miserably under the pathetic shelter he had constructed. He had eaten some fish remains he found by the docks earlier in the day but he doubted that was enough to keep him going. At least water wasn't an issue, there was plenty of rainwater to drink, even it had to be gathered in the dirty rags he called clothes. But most of those problems could be solved now after what he had just stolen from an unsuspecting shopkeepers pocket just moments ago. 20 gold coins. This could feed him for a few days, enough time to steal some more money and goods. The shopkeeper also had some candy in his pocket which Fa'khar took gratefully.

Anyway, the money wouldn't keep him out of the rain, so some sort of shelter had to be devised. Fa'khar would be instantly removed from any home or shop he entered (none of the locals trusted his kind), and the few other spots around the city that could provide a modicum of protection were already taken. That leaves one option, the Ratway. The Ratway is the name given to the sewers beneath Riften's streets. It is home to all sorts of undesirables including but not limited to, thieves, murderers, the criminally insane, and any homeless that can live there without being stabbed in the back. The guards are completely indifferent to the goings of the Ratway, making the area lawless and cutthroat. And worst of all, the Ratway is said to be home to the Thieves guild, a band of burglars and swindlers who terrorize all of Skyrim. At least they did until they were cursed with a streak of bad luck that soiled their credibility. A young khajit boy such as Fa'khar would stand no chance against the Ratway.

But Fa'khar had no other choice, and so he ventured into the canal that cut through the middle of Riften and located the entrance to the sewers. From the outside the door seems unassuming, and you would probably miss it if you weren't looking for it. But behind the rotting wooden door there laid an entire world of treachery and intrigue. And so with a fearful heart and the thought of the worst on his mind Fa'khar pushed through the door and into the Ratway.

The door creaked open ominously, the squeal of many years without a proper oiling. As soon as there was space wide enough for Fa'khar to squeeze through he was assailed with the pungent stench of mold and what he could only describe as the smell of death. Just the smell was almost enough to discourage him from entering if not for him convincing himself that staying outside would only result in an untimely demise. he pressed on fearfully, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't being followed by any axe murders, or worse. The Ratway's dank corridors were claustrophobic, usually only four feet wide at most. The walls were coated with grime, and the only light came from the few torches on the wall. Most of the torches had gone out however, and the darkness was overwhelming, too much even for his khajit night vision. Fa'khar had to keep one hand on the wall at all time to make sure he didn't get lost.

After what felt like hours but in reality was only a few minutes. Fa'khar located a suitably dry space to sleep in . He put his belongings in a bag and hid them in a hole in the wall which he then closed up with a loose brick. After his valuables were secured he laid his head down to rest on a makeshift straw pillow. He thought the fear of being attacked would keep him awake, but his exhaustion put him to sleep as soon as he closed his eyes. He clutched a small iron knife in his hands.

The next day Fa'khar awoke to the sound of the methodical rhythm of water dripping onto smooth stone. He quickly gained a bearing of his surroundings and went to take note of his possessions. He retrieved the bag he used to carry his things from its hiding place in the wall and rummaged through it to make sure he hadn't lost anything during the night. His 20 coins were still there, along with a rag and a half eaten apple. There was also a shiny rock he found by a riverbed and some charcoal and paper. He sheathed his trusty knife into his belt and pushed the bag it back into the hiding spot, it should be safe there until he returns. He made his way along the same path he took yesterday through the Ratway and exited into the soft morning light.

In the daylight, Riften could almost be described as beautiful. The sloping roofs and stone structures cast long shadows, and the birds serenaded the morning with their chirps and trills. The market place at the center of the town was bustling with activity, an ideal environment for pickpocketing. He made his way into the crowd carefully weaved his way between the marketers, his eyes scanning for any suitably wealthy victims. He decided on a man clothed in expensive robes who was standing in front of a jewelry vendor. Fa'khar pushed himself towards the man, earning no small amount of suspicious and unfriendly glances. As soon as the man began to walk away from the stall, he bumped in Fa'khar who was moving in the opposite direction. The man yelled some insult Fa'khar didn't care the make out and shoved him out of the way. Fa'khar apologized profusely and slinked off with a whimper. The man stormed off with a disgusted flick of his hand.

Unbeknownst to the man however, his ring and coin pouch were missing, and had ended up in the pocket of a very happy young khajit. Fa'khar quickly removed himself from the market to avoid suspicion, and creeped into a nearby alleyway to take note of his ill-gained loot. He was thrilled that the thievery went so smoothly. He expected to get caught, but maybe his luck was just too good. Oh right, the was, of course, the pretty gold ring that Fa'khar immediately slipped onto his finger. He might sell this later, but then again he might not. There were 35 coins in the coin pouch. This brings his net worth up to 55 coins. At this rate he could be rich by tomorrow! Fa'khar adds the money to his personal coin pouch and heads off to the general goods store.

The store has everything a young thief would need. Fa'khar buys some bread and apples for later. He exits the shop, but not before swiping some coins left carelessly on the front desk. Fa'khar's mind wanders as he leaves the shop. He wonders whether Riften is the best place for someone like him. Nothing there is easy to come by, and shopkeepers are almost always on the lookout for thieves. And not to mention how dirty and wet the city is. And there is so much homelessness, that there will always be competition. But despite how much of a cesspool the city is, most of the other cities even worth considering will not allow khajit within their walls. Making Riften his only option. But just thinking about it... Because he had his mind in the clouds, Fa'khar failed to notice the man who had stepped into his path, leading him to crash into him unceremoniously. "watch it will ya!" an angry voice exclaimed.

Fa'khar sized up the man. He was armed, that was clear by the very intimidating knife strapped to his thigh. He was many feet taller than Fa'khar, and much tougher looking, and he also seemed very angry. "Terribly sorry sir!" Fa'khar whimpered, attempting to seem as pathetic as possible to arouse some sort of sympathy. He turned to walk away but then felt a strong calloused hand grip his arm. "you're not going anywhere whelp! I've seen you sneaking around. What are ya up to, eh?" Fa'khar knew he was in some hot water and his mind raced to find a way to wriggle out of the mess he found himself in. The man didn't seem like one for pity so employing guilt or compassion most likely wouldn't help, and would probably just make him even angrier. Violence was an option, but that probably would not be very good for Fa'khar's health. Then again... "Answer me cat!" The man growled "Is that your ring or someone else's? The man reached for the gold ring on Fa'khar's finger. This caused Fa'khar to panic.

Fa'khar unsheathed his knife, and in one quick motion, plunged it into the man's thigh. He screamed in pain and his land let go of Fa'khar to grip at his bleeding leg. Fa'khar took the opportunity to sprint towards the Ratway. he left the knife in the man's leg, but it could always be replaced. All he was thinking about now was getting out of there.

He couldn't believe he just did that. The knife was really only just for show and to make himself feel better, but now that he actually used it... Fa'khar didn't really know how to feel. Fa'khar was sitting in his hiding place, back to the wall and listening for any commotion that could suggest he's been found. This will put him in an even stickier situation than before. He doesn't know how many people saw him stab the man, but he's not willing to take any risks. Fa'khar almost wishes he had stabbed the man somewhere fatal, that way the stabbing couldn't have been traced back to him. Nobody would suspect the khajit beggar boy.

Now the man will go and tell everyone he was stabbed by a khajit and everyone will know that the culprit is little ol Fa'khar. He runs through his options. The first and most obvious choice would be to get out of Riften and never come back. It sounds simple but that would require getting out of town undetected, which is not simple. And when you're this deep in the crap and everyone's looking out for a certain young khajit then everything gets ten times more complicated.

Then there is a less desirable option, which is turn himself in. It sounds completely moronic but it just might work, at least it does in his head. Best case scenario of doing this gets him thrown out of town where he can run away and never be heard from again. Fa'khar can march down to ivarstead and make a living for himself. Worst case scenario, he gets thrown in jail for life. This might not be too bad considering he'd be safe from the townspeople, but then again, what is the punishment for assault? Death? Fa'khar would rather not think about it. Then there is a wild card option. One that is so insane and objectively stupid it could get him rich and out of trouble. Fa'khar could join the thieves guild?

Maybe. The thieves guild was apparently in bad shape so they will be accepting anybody they can get there hands on. And since khajit such as himself are known for their natural stealthiness and dexterity, he could be accepted. No, that is a stupid idea. Why would he even think of that? Even if they did accept him, why would he want to join a guild that is failing? That would be more trouble than it's worth. It is a nice thought though and maybe someday if the thieves guild isn't near collapse than he would consider joining. But for now, he leaves. Fa'khar gathers up his things in his sack and kisses his little home goodbye. He does his best to erase any evidence of him being there. Food scraps, loose belongings, and quite a bit of hair is removed from the shelter and dumped somewhere unsuspecting. This may make it harder for him to be tracked, that is if they even care about finding him, which Fa'khar doubts they will after a few days. Finally he picks himself up and squeezes through the narrow corridors towards the exit.

Fa'khar slowly inches the door open, previously oiling the door with some lamp oil he found to avoid making too much noise. He peeks his head through to check for any patrolling guards. When it becomes clear that there are none he slips through the small crack of the door, minding to close it behind him. He creeps along the wall of the canal, keeping to the wall as much as possible to minimize any shadows he casts. He steps lightly as to not disturb the loose boards beneath his feet. He slinks up the stairs leading to the streets quiet as a mouse. If this were not such a dire situation Fa'khar would have taken a moment to admire his handiwork and compliment his own stealthiness, but this was no time for ego stroking, he had a job to do.

Fa'khar reached street level, and stole a glance at his surroundings to check he was not spotted. Thanks to his excellent night vision as a khajit, he will probably spot anyone else before they see him, but as he always says "It's better safe than dead" Fa'khar efficiently scales the wall of the orphanage that stands next to the walls. Fa'khar hated this orphanage with a old headmistress that owns the building, Grelod the kind, is a cruel hag that treated the children no better than garbage. Fa'kahar hoped she would die horribly someday, maybe by the dark brotherhood or something. He had stayed in the orphanage for maybe a year or so before fleeing when the abuse became too much. After that ordeal he wandered Skyrim with some caravaneers before finally settling on Riften. Fa'khar continued along the roof of the orphanage before finally reaching the wall and hopping down to ground level on the other side.

He felt like maybe this was a new beginning for him, like this was his coming of age or something. Though perhaps he's already had his coming of age and this was just another hurdle he has to overcome in his messy life. He wonders if it's normal to have these struggles, if he is even destined to come out on top. Perhaps he will turn his life around after this, become a farmer, a shopkeeper, or maybe even run his own caravan. Maybe even someday he will be able to see Elsweyr, the home of the khajit. We both know these are lies however. Fa'khar is a thief and he always will be. He will always be on the edge of danger and on the wrong side of the law. At least he knows he will be a good thief, because in this business there are only two kinds of thieves, good ones and dead ones, and Fa'khar isn't very good at dying.

And so he sets out on his grand adventure, not knowing where he will end up, or where he is even going. All he knows is that Riften is behind him, and riches are ahead of him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Loredas, 21st of Rains Hand, 4E 188

Fa'khar took another swig. The vile liquid washed down his throat, filling him with the same familiar feeling of pure ecstasy. He leaned back in his chair and reveled in the high the drug gave him. For a khajit, there was nothing quite like skooma. It relaxed the muscles and the mind, helped you forget all your worries and troubles, and just you just give yourself up to the euphoric tingling in your very being. It was like dipping your head in cold water after staying up all night, a refreshing blast of… something. Of course, Fa'khar knew skooma was junk, and he was a junkie. But when you're in that high you don't much care what you are. Soon the high would wear off and Fa'khar would be back in Tamriel, but then he would just take some more.

He really wanted to stop, in the back of his mind he knew he was killing himself and that garbage would be the end of him, but that nagging voice in his head could easily drowned out with more the skooma wasn't killing him in just one way, jobs were becoming harder to complete, he was becoming lazy and incompetent at thievery, and as a bandit there is little room for failure. One more failed job and the boss would make him into a fur coat. He had been with his current gang for maybe a month or so. To be honest he no longer cared how long he's been with them. All that mattered was that this gig brought in mountains of coin.

But that coin won't mean much if he can't earn it, so he'll have to figure something out to get his act together, but he'll worry about that later. Fa'khar stumbled out of his seat and slung his bow over his shoulder. He had picked up the bow off some refugee family many years ago after he lost his knife. He found he liked the bow a lot more. He didn't really need it too much since thievery doesn't really require much killing, but if violence is needed it's better to start it by surprise and from a distance. He even became quite proficient with the weapon, and he's regarded as the best archer within their little group. Bows aren't much good in bar fights though he's found. And he's been getting in plenty of bar fights Fa'khar's noticed. Maybe it's because he's always trying to swindle bar goers out of their alcohol(or skooma if possible).

Currently Fa'khar is at a dirty backwater bar that's been set up in a cave by a very sleazy entrepreneur. It's deep in the falkreath woods and is usually only visited by criminals such as Fa'khar. It features many attractions such as alcohol, dog fights, bar fights, and drug use. The alcohol is nothing to be proud of though, so the bar is usually awash with the sounds of yelling and punching. Fa'khar made his way to the exit of the bar, with just a few stolen goods stashed in his clothes. He had made it only halfway out before a burly man extended his arm to block his path.

"Just where do you think your going, cat?" The beast snarled "I'm leaving, I have things to do unlike you." Fa'khar responded, his speech slightly slurred. Whether this is because of the alcohol or the skooma is hard to say. "Smart mouth, I think i'll take your tongue first. Do you know why they call me "The Grinder"? Fa'khar smirked "Please show me, I would love to know." It was at this moment that Fa'khar noticed the other patrons of the bar getting up from their seats and advancing towards him. He immediately regretted being sarcastic. Maybe there's still hope for his hide though, he just had to pick his words carefully. "I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding, what are your grievances pray tell?" He didn't know if he said that right, but it sounded pretty smart.

The Grinder seemed confused but unconvinced. "Wha-?"

"I mean, what did I do wrong." Fa'khar clarified.

"You stole some things." the Grinder replied

Fa'khar mocked incredulousness, his mouth gaping dramatically with his hands on his cheeks."Oh my! This is quite an accusation! I assume you have evidence?" The Grinder grabbed Fa'khars fur coat and shook it hard. Out came rolling the possessions of several patrons. The men and women surrounding Fa'khar looked at him with little surprise. Fa'khar knew he was in some seriously hot water but he could probably make his way out of it if he played his cards right. Fa'khar removed himself from the grip of the Grinder. He straightened his clothes and scanned the crowd. He cleared his throat and proceeded to fly the bird at all of them before booking it for the entrance, grabbing a few bottles of mead along the way of course. These fools may have won the battle, but Fa'khar will win the war, that is certain.

Yells of anger chased him as he dashed out into the evening light, said voices continued to pursue him until they finally gave in once he reached the nearby town of Falkreath. Standing at the edge of town gathering his breath, Fa'khar took the chance to observe the town(from a safe distance of course, he was not too welcome there after an incident with the jarl's daughter).

Falkreath was a quaint little logging town at the south end of sounds of labor and the sawmill could be heard even at Fa'khar's distance. The blacksmith's hammered iron rhythmically. Fa'khar wondered what he was making, he didn't much care but it gave him something to think about as he sat there. The blacksmith's name was Lod if he recalled correctly. He's a good man, and Fa'khar remembers feeling guilty about stealing his coin purse.

The town was surrounded by forest by miles. It always seemed strange that for a logging town there seemed to be few indications of trees having been cut down. Whatever, most likely some weird Nord magic. There are many stories about Falkreath, many of them concern the large cemetery that Falkreath is home to. The large cemetery was due to a battle that took place there many years go, if Fa'khar remembers correctly. He couldn't recall which war the battle took place during, but it didn't matter much to him.

Just then out of the corner of his eye Fa'khar spotted some movement. The skooma's effects had worn off and his sharp khajit senses were returning to him. He reached slowly grabbed for his bow and an arrow. There was more movement. He slung the bow off his shoulder and nocked an arrow. He didn't think he could last long in a fight. All he was wearing was some beaten leather and iron armor, and his bow was very makeshift and used iron arrow. Hopefully his deadly aim could make up for that though.

Fa'khar drew his bow halfway in preparation. He sensed some activity in his peripheral vision and slowly stood up from his spot on a log. He narrowed his eyes and turned his eyes, ready to pick up any indication of danger. Suddenly there was loud movement and crushing of undergrowth to his right. Something was moving in his direction fast. Fa'khar aimed in the general direction. The bushes were too thick to see what the strange foe was, but Fa'khar could tell it was at least human sized. He drew the bow to his cheek and took aim.

Just then, a young woman clothed in torn novice mage robes and wild eyes crashed through the bushes right in front of him. Fa'khar almost put an arrow between her eyes but decided against it, deciding she was not the threat. There was obviously something much bigger than her causing the distress. The woman tripped on a tree branch and crashed to the ground at Fa'khar's feet. He doubted she even notice him as she was in utter terror. And speak of the devil, just moments after the girl crashed a bear came barreling through the trees like a massive roiling tidal wave of fur and muscle. It proceeded to fling itself at Fa'khar and the girl in it's mindless rage. Fa'khar nearly panicked but kept calm enough to loose the arrow at just the right moment.

The arrow flew from the bow, planting it's head in the skull of the beast. The bear roared with pain before it's eyes glazed over and it fell, planting its chin into the dirt. It took Fa'khar a good minute to understand what he just did, and even then with his adrenaline pumping he had trouble understanding the situation. The young woman had realized the bear was dead and quickly leapt to her feet. She got her bearings and thanked Fa'khar for his heroism. "Well uh. Thank you for killing the bear. You're probably wondering why, um, why I was being chased through the woods by a bear. Well, it's a long story." She said appreciatively.

The woman was very quirky. She spoke at a fast pace, causing her to stammer and use "uh" and "um" quite a bit. Fa'khar noticed several more things about her that he didn't realize as she was running through the woods and falling at his feet. She was, of course, wearing some novice mage robes, destruction school by the look of it. She had warm black hair that was tied in a braid behind her head that fell to her shoulders. She was a breton, unsurprising that she's a mage. She had fair skin, and blue, excited eyes. Her mouth seemed to be locked in a slight smile, and her face shape was thin and symmetrical. She had burn and general damage marks on several parts of her body, probably from failed experiments. A steel knife was sheathed at her side, Fa'khar would bet money that it's enchanted.

"I would like to know very much" Fa'khar said giving the lifeless bear a nudge with his foot. "Well, um. I was trying to learn the fire bolt spell... you know that spell?' She asked. That brought back a painful memory, a literally painful memory. Fa'khar knew that spell very well, he had the burn mark to prove it. "Yes i do know that spell, isn't it a bit too advanced for a novice though?" He questioned, arching one eyebrow. "Well, yes. But I am very good at magic! I thought I could do it, so i set up a target. I did the spell but I missed the target and hit...um." She motioned to the dead bear. On its backside was an ugly spot of charred fur. This made Fa'khar wince, he could relate.

"Anyway, what's done is done. Are you from the college?" Fa'khar asked as he pulled his arrow from the skull of the deceased bear. "Yes, I am. I came here to do research, and um try out spells. Frankly I'm not quite sure why I came out to a forest to try fire spells. Oh well, hindsight is 20/20." She answered. "Tell me about." Fa'khar chuckled "Well it's good to meet you...shoot!." Fa'khar had broken the arrow he was trying to extract from the bear corpse. He tossed it aside, annoyed with his carelessness. That will cost him later."Anyway what is your name?" He asked the woman. "Oh! I'm so sorry! I must seem so rude, not introducing myself. My name is Elayne. And you are..?" She inquired with and interested expression.

"I am Fa'khar" He answered, smiling. He extended his hand to her. She shook his hand with gusto. "Wonderful to meet you out here Fa'khar! I'm lucky I met you or i would be bear food right now. What are you doing out here anyway?" Fa'khar kind of liked Elayne, and he hated to lie to her, but she would likely turn him in if he was honest. "I'm a hunter, I was just stopping for a rest." He answered, flashing his signature smile. "Well I thank you again for saving my life Fa'khar the hunter! It was a pleasure to meet someone as noble as you!" Argh, she was so nice it was killing him. He hated to do anything dishonest to but you have to do what you have to do.

"Well this is where we part ways Elayne, It was nice to meet you." he said to her, smiling charismatically. He felt guilty for being this fake. "Yes! May our paths cross again someday." She beamed Fa'khar flung his bow over his shoulder and began to make his way into the woods when he heard Elayne yell from behind. "Wait! I need to ask you something." Fa'khar pretended to not notice her and continued walking. He secretly wished he could talk with her for a while longer, but he had stolen her ring during their their handshake and wanted to get as far away as possible.

"Wait up she repeated!" She caught up with him and grabbed his shoulder "yes? What is it" he asked struggling to contain his frustration. "Well I just realized, I wanted to find a nearby crypt for research, but I um think I lost my map during my chase with the bear. I know, I'm very clumsy." She said between her breaths. Oh no, Fa'khar realized that he had also stole her map. How do you even forget about stealing something? That must say a lot about him. "And?" he said motioning for her to go on. "Well I was thinking… since your a hunter you must know the land right? Could you lead me to the crypt?" She pleaded. Fa'khar started to panic. She would get suspicious eventually and he would be found out. But for some reason he really didn't want to turn her down. He'll find a way through this probably. And so he agreed, and they set off for the tomb.


	3. Chapter 3

Concerning the Thieves Guild

Unbeknownst to our intrepid hero, the Thieves Guild will play a bigger role in his life than he yet that is for later. For now, let me provide you with some background on the Thieves guild.

The guild has a strong presence in Skyrim. They are headquartered in the Ratways underneath Riften. From there they carry out all sorts of criminal activity such as extortion, burglary, or bribery. They are known to pay off affluent entrepreneurs in hopes of payback. They are also known to work with individuals in high points of power to further their agenda. One of the more important examples of this is with Maven Black-briar. The shrewd and ruthless owner of the Black-briar Meadery. Because of this they have a strong foothold in Riften, and are able to monopolize the markets and keep the authorities off their tail.

Concerning the history of the guild, little is known about when and how the Thieves Guild was founded, but it is said that it has been around as long as Riften has. The guild started to fall into a depression during the fourth Era after the death of their guildmaster, a man named Gallus. After its decline many associates abandoned the guild (Maven being the exception) and the people of skyrim became bolder and no longer feared the guild. It has been this way up to the current moment in our tale.

The guild has had presence across Tamriel in many forms, though they are rarely connected with each other. Each province has had some a faction calling themselves "The Thieves Guild" each with their own style and influence. The thieves Guild of Skyrim seems to be the most violent, allowing murder at certain occasions. It has also been the most influential. It has been said that Barenziah, the Dunmer queen was once counted amongst its ranks.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The ruins were a menacing presence. The steep walls coated with vegetation imposed themselves onto the cliffside as if the mountain was made to fit the building. The paint was faded and pale, and the stones were cracked from years of neglect. But despite the decay the ruins were in surprisingly good condition. Dwarves must have been good at making their structures last. Any other ruins would have disappeared after this many years.

But despite it's how impressive it was, Fa'kahr was less than excited to enter the ruins. He never liked Dwarven ruins, or dwarven anything really. There were too many sharp angles. The design and style was ugly and boring. Compared to the flowing elven style, dwarven architecture was archaic. But the architecture was not his main concern. He had heard many stories about the dangers that await any adventurers foolish enough to venture into the depths of dwarves ruins. Behind those massive, derelict doors awaited automatons, booby traps, spiders, falmer, and several other horrors Fa'khar didn't care much to think about.

Fa'khar began to actually think. Why was he following this woman again? The mixture of skooma and alcohol must have fried his brain. He should have ditched her hours ago. Was it curiosity or boredom that made him go on? Because truthfully she was heading into those ruins and he didn't really want to go in with her. "Hold up" he suddenly said. Elayne looked over her shoulder at him inquisitively. "Yes? What is it?" He continued "I'm not going to go any farther than this. I've done enough by leading you here. Now I have to go. You're welcome for taking you here." He began to turn to leave but Elayne stopped him. "Wait, you can't leave! You owe me!" she said her smile vanishing and a frown taking it's place."

Fa'khar was indignant. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. If anybody here owes something it's her since he saved her hide from that bear. "Excuse me miss Elayne but I don't owe you anything!" He began to turn away once again but Elayne retorted " you owe me for the ring." Fa'khar froze. How did she know about the ring? He thought for sure he was home free on that front. She continued with determination " I know you stole the ring and if you don't help me explore and research these ruins then I'm turning you in."

Fa'khar replied, hiding his shock " You can't prove anything. What ring are you even talking about?" She furrowed her brow and appeared to lose confidence. Fa'khar began to think she hadn't thought this through beforehand. "Well, um. I saw you fiddling with a gold ring earlier, in the woods." She accused pointing her finger at his pocket where he suspected he had hidden it. Fa'khar arched his brow. "There are many gold rings in this world, how can you possibly sure that MY ring belongs to you?" She appeared to think for a second, then lit up. "The handshake! That's when you took the ring wasn't it! I had it on my finger and then it was gone. The jigs up. Hand over the ring and help me."

Fa'khar didn't plan on budging. Who did she think she was anyway? She's just blindly accusing at this point. She may be right but he doubts that she actually knows that. The best Fa'khar can do now is continue to plead ignorance while simultaneously accusing her of being rash. If she wants to play the game then so be it. ""I have no clue what you're talking about. You probably just dropped it or something. In fact, if it's so important to you I'll give you my ring. Your lucky I'm generous." He said this with a snort and handed her the ring. He hoped this would get her off his case and he could just leave without further accusation.

Wait. oh no this is not good. He forgot the ring wasn't normal. It had her name on it! Stupid! Why did he do that! Now she will know he stole it! Elayne snatched the ring and studied its surface. "Ah hah! This ring has my name on it! You DID steal it!" She shouted with triumph. Fa'khar mentally punched himself in the gut for being such an idiot. He really needs to lay off the skooma. "Oh I just found that ring. I had no clue it belonged to you." he replied, slapping himself in his imagination with each syllable. "You're lying." She stated flatly, poking her index finger into his chest to punctuate a completely correct statement.

Fa'khar began to think this wasn't worth it, maybe he should just make a run for it. Her magic may catch up to him but he could dodge, maybe. "I would never lie!" he exclaimed, feigning offense and crossing his arms across his chest. "Oh but you do!" Elayne replayed with frustration. "You lied about-" She was cut off by the sight of a large shadow sweeping over their heads. They both looked at each other with alarm. It was something flying for sure, but what? Fa'khar couldn't think of anything that big that could fly except a dragon but that's- His train of thought was interrupted by a mighty roar. Flapping wings and the clink of scales could be heard from above.

Both Elayne and Fa'khar looked up simultaneously. What they saw defied both their wildest dreams. A dragon, a majestic beast sailed overhead. It was a green color with long wings and powerful hind legs. The claws, even from their lowly position, looked sharp enough to slice the flesh of a daedric prince, and the teeth were vicious and gleamed in the sunlight. If they were at a safe distance they would have thought the creature beautiful, but they were much too terrified to notice this.

Now to understand their shock you must understand something about dragons. They are supposed to be extinct. Dragons were supposedly hunted and slain by the thousands during the rebellion against the dragon priests, and the last sighting of a dragon was during the time of Tiber Septim in the second Era. Dragons are supposed to be extinct to put it simply. To see one right now is mind-boggling. Both Elayne and Fa'khar knew about the attack on Helgen and the rumors that a dragon was responsible, but they both believed they were simply rumors and Helgen was simply a casualty of the war. Clearly they were wrong.

Despite their shock, there was no time for gawking. The neither were willing to bet on the creature being a gentle giant, and there was no chance they were fighting it, so they had to find some shelter. The first thought that came to Fa'khar's mind was the ruins. He seized Elaynes arm ( He wasn't about to leave her out here to die) and pulled her towards the entrance of the dungeon hastily. It was at that moment that the dragon noticed their presence. Two puny mortals must have seemed an appealing snack for the beast, and he wasted no time in going in for the kill. He pointed his nose towards his target and began his deadly descent. His hind legs extended, brandishing their claws like knives, and prepared to snatch up the duo for lunch.

Fa'khar and Elayne had only just reached the entrance when Fa'khar sensed the dragon zeroing in on them. He quickly leapt forward, taking Elayne with him, narrowly avoid being torn apart by the creatures razor sharp talons. He complimented himself in his mind for his agility, and he and Elayne seized the handles of the double doors to pry them open. The dragon had missed them but he wasn't about to give up. A blast of flame ought to do the trick. Both Elayne and Fa'khar smelled the smoke beforehand hover and they scrambled behind a pole in front of the entrance.

The pillar took the brunt of the heat, leaving the two shaken but otherwise unharmed. They quickly went back to the task of getting through the doors. And in record time they cleared a space wide enough for them to squeeze through. They hastily slammed the doors behind them and pulled any nearby stones in front of it to block the dragon from pushing his snake like neck through, but it was futile, as the dragons mighty head crashed through, intent on its meal. Elayne sprinted down the corridor, and Fa'khar barely scrambled to safety before the dragon snapped at his previous position, narrowly claiming one of his limbs. He followed Elayne down the hallway. When they found a room they went in to avoid the beast's fiery breath.

They both sat on the ground, backs against wall, attempting to gain back their breath. It seems they have cheated death. They exchange looks and begin to chuckle halfheartedly. They felt horrible, were covered in soot and mud, and had no real idea of how they were getting out again, but at least they were alive.

They had lost some of their supplies during their mad escape but they were otherwise well stocked. Neither knew how long the ruins were or if they would be trapped in there a few hours, days, or weeks, but that didn't matter much to them. Their only option now was forward.


End file.
